forgotten (five parts)
by OrpheusEx
Summary: Ib told Mary the truth. She'd bring Garry out with her. Then the dolls happened. And Garry went mad. Then there was the toy box. And blue petals fell to the floor. And Mary burned. Then she forgot. [Forgotten Portrait ending] Please leave feedback/reviews! There is a poll on how this story will end on my profile page. I WILL NOT POST THE LAST CHAPTER UNTIL I HAVE AT LEAST TEN VOTES
1. candy and roses

_"...He loves me not..."_

_"Mary?"_

_"...He loves me..."_

_"Please stop, Mary..."_

_"...He loves me not..."_

_"MARY! Stop! Please... stop it..."_

_"...HE LOVES ME!"_

Forgotten Portrait

The little girl was jolted out of her reverie in front of a large, abstract painting. She saw dolls and a little girl in green within it's odd mixture of shapes and colors. Although she felt weak kneed, for who knew why, she bent down to look at the small copper plaque.

"Fab-ri-cated World." She had a bit of trouble pronouncing it, but she knew it meant "fake, or unreal."

"But... but I don't know those kanji..." A wave of confusion enveloped her, soon subsiding as "作製しました" turned back into "?."

She rose, walking left, the turned right, before ducking and cowering in fear...

From mannequins. They were just mannequins. They would never come to life. Or tear apart roses. Or hurt her brother.

"I... I don't have a brother..." Ib gulped air as she caught her breath. The same feeling overtook the young girl as she looked at the crying, headless figures.

She got back up as the metal people stopped crying and stood still again. She walked closer to the lobby.

She paused right before traveling the corridor back to the desk. She saw a new painting. One she never saw before. She walked up to it, involuntarily tearing up as she did so.

A young man with purple hair and a big black spider on his head lay slumped against a wall of thorns that sprouted from a knocked down painting on floor. He wore a sleeveless green shirt with a dark blue jacket with a torn up collar.

His eyes were closed, yet he was smiling.

_A last smile for his sister. _Ib blinked, wondering where she got that thought, and a chill creeped up on her as she resumed examining the painting with puffy red eyes.

She saw he had a thin build and was wearing jeans. On his chest there was a long, thick stretch of dark red and several more red lines were scattered on his arms and face. She saw that by his left pocket, he had a loose grip on a blue, wilted rose whose petals had fallen off.

She heard footsteps and the mention of a _Forgotten Portrait_, but didn't quite care, being lost in the story Guertena had seemed to paint just for her.

The man's free, outstretched hand reached for a girl whose body was off-canvas, save for a pair of pale legs and red shoes, as if offering a hug.

She stood in silence, hearing nothing but her own sobs.

"She.." In sniffled between words. "She looks... Looks like me, mommy." She knew the two figures behind her were her parents.

"Yes, yes, she does, honey. Are you crying?" The brunette nodded her head.

"W-why am I crying, mommy?" Her mother had a confused look. She didn't know.

"Do you want to leave now, Ib?" She nodded again. Then her dad spoke up.

"Well, Ib, it's lunchtime, and we were thinking of going to a café. Anyplace you'd like?"

"J-just a place with real sunlight." She knew that sounded odd, but couldn't quite stop herself from saying it.

"And lemon candies... And macaroons... And roses. Bl-blue ones." She felt herself subconsciously playing with a lighter in her pocket in place of her missing lace handkerchief. Ib looked down at her feet.

"Sure, anything you'd like, bunny." Her father smiled, and they walked out the art gallery.


	2. lemon tarts

Eh, not too sure how this turned out. I managed to turn this into a five part story via my own curiosity.

Anyway, R&R!

-OrpheusEx

Ib, now in her freshman year, chewed on a sweet lemon tart that her mother packed for her. The sour flavor made her pucker her lips, but they were a good snack.

They made her feel happy.

They made her feel safe.

They made her laugh.

They made her brave.

They made her sad.

She honestly didn't know why she loved them, but whenever she ate them, she'd suddenly be the perkiest, brightest, and happiest student you ever met...

...but if you really knew her, like the boy sitting across from her did, you would see the that smile turned upside down as it reached her eyes, that she lost that spring in her step, that she wanted to lash out at the world, that she wanted to suddenly cry and never stop...

That she was lost.

"Ib? Hello? Ib?" A kind friend's voice pierced her thoughts like a particularly sharp palette knife.

"Yeah, Adam? Something wrong?" She said, in the most energetic voice she could muster. The facade had become second nature, being everything she could do to stop herself from crawling into a little ball and sobbing. She stared at her classmate with the dirty blonde hair and blue rimed glasses with a hollow look she hoped he didn't notice.

"I asked you if you liked your birthday gift." He held a photo of the two smiling at the beach. A fake blue rose was hot glued to the small frame. In the picture, she had a small yellow lollipop in her mouth.

It had been lemon flavored.

"I love it!" She really did. But Ib suddenly felt melancholy, almost like she was at a funeral.

The boy adjusted his glasses a little and looked a little red. "Great! I hoped you would, Ib."

They sat in a nervous silence.

"Um... Well, Ib. All of our classmates are joking around about us... "Adam and Ib and all..."

God. Really? She knew where this was going.

"... I was thinking maybe we could, well..."

She couldn't. She couldn't explain why, but she couldn't.

"I'm sorry, Adam... But I can't. Not now... Gomennasai, Adam-kun." Her facade was starting to crack now. Before she could break down any further, she turned around and left, wiping her eyes with her sleeve as she walked.

Both felt a small bit of themselves break as they glimpsed each other's tears.


	3. sour memories

PLEASE READ AUTHOR'S NOTE!

Part three complete!

I had been talking to a friend about Ib, and he compared it to Beauty & the Beast. I denied everything.

Then I realized he was right.

Garry- non-douchebag Gaston

Ib- Belle

Mary- sociopathic Beast

What do you guys think?

Also, I'm a bit torn over how to write Part 5. I could have it a downer ending, or a hopeful one. Please review over which one you guys want. The only difference is one has an extra paragraph, so I don't need the votes in until I actually post Part 5.

Anyways, on with the fanfic!

-OrpheusEx

* * *

Ib smiled as she found the street she was looking for. Her lemon candy she had in her mouth made her a little sorrowful, but the lemon almost seemed to cheer her up as she reached the art gallery.

_"Okay, class, for our project this year, we're writing a 5300 word essay about an artist's work with one partner." Ib ignored everyone's groaning and felt her spirit rise a little._

_"Adam and I will take Weiss Guertena!" Adam looked up, along with the rest of the startled class. Guertena had been her favorite artist for so long, she probably hadn't needed to come to the gallery, but it had seemed like an excellent time to rebuild the bridge she burned as casually as one might toss away a lit lighter._

Unfortunately, the blonde youth had gotten a cold, halting the construction.

Jolted back to the present, she pulled open one of the glass doors that led into the gallery. Ib produced a frequent visitor pass, and walked past, contemplating the familiar yet new taste of the candy she just bought from the macaroon place.

It was odd. Sometimes she would have nostalgia, but yet not know why. There were times where she would have insomnia and lie awake in her bed. On those nights, resting under the warm sheets, she would snuggle with her large, oversized pink rabbit plush, until she fell asleep.

And that was when the nightmares would begin. Dolls with blue skin, ashes and knives, and withered roses. She never liked the game "Loves Me Not." And Garry, a name she had picked out of the blue one day, the bunny would do nothing but add to the nightmare, withering to a scrap of purple cloth.

Ib shivered and looked around. Not many came to an art gallery at five in the morning. Then again, not many loved Guertena's work as much as the brunette. She smiled, walking down, until she heard a small thing drop from her pocket.

She picked it up and started to walk again. It was a small brass Zippo lighter with an English "G" engraved in script on it. She found the cold object when she was nine. Ib had no idea where it came from. She winced. She had managed to drop her expensive lace handkerchief that day too, and was kept out of the candy jar for a month.

Her parents soon confiscated the brass token, saying that they were dangerous, and she shouldn't have them till she was older.

Then they wouldn't let her have it because they thought she'd start smoking.

She rolled her eyes. That was what the lemon drops were for, mom.

Needless to say, she immediately swiped it off her mother's dresser when her back was turned.

Silly as it was, she would still sometimes press it to her cheek on those sleepless nights, and as an odd result, her dreams were much more pleasant.

She smiled, flicking it on and off over and over. She stopped to look at The Lady in Red. She was creepy... The Lady looked like she'd peel right off, and suddenly grow fangs.

Ib shivered, walking again to make her way back down to the main floor in her red heels.

Ib sat down in front of the Forgotten Portrait, as she did every time. Whenever she came here, she'd looked at the sad painting of the sleepi- dead man strangled by a neon yellow rose that sprouted from the wall of thorns he laid against. She used to make up delusional stories when she was younger and bawl her eyes out.

She gave a sad smile as she tried to recall those insane stories.

_Flick_. Hmm... The lighter wasn't working.

A little girl walking into the art gallery found herself trapped when the lights flickered, all alone.

_Flick_. Nope.

The girl walked down into a painting and fell. She found a brilliant red rose.

_Flick_. Shoot. She kept sucking on the lemon drop.

She met a man, lying on the ground, and stole a rose from an evil witch in blue. He woke up.

_Flick_. The candy was sweet.

He was sweet, protective, and a total scaredy cat.

He made her happy.

_Flick._

They journeyed though the gloom, like a princess and her knight.

The little girl was the knight, of course.

_Flick_. Ib smiled.

Then the little girl met a little witch. She wasn't like the others, though. She was friendly, and fun.

_Flick_. Why wasn't the lighter working?

Then a big gate separated the girl and the witch from the older man. It was scary.

_Flick_.

The little girl suddenly became the princess, and the witch became her new knight.

_Flick._

They found the man. He was crazy. Cuckoo! A bit of tears were all that was needed to bring him back.

The slapping might have helped too, of course.

_Flick_. Ib started tearing up. She felt the small lump of sour in her mouth.

The witch went mad. She collapsed.

_Flick_.

The little girl lost her life. And the man traded his for it back.

_Flick_.

That little witch plucked and played with the rose.

He fell asleep.

_Flick_.

The little girl borrowed his lighter. She was angry. She burned the witch. And the little girl was all alone.

Again.

_Flick_. Poof. She swallowed the candy.

A gallery.  
A rose.  
A man.  
A girl.

Friendships.

A realization.  
Abandoned.  
Something lost.  
A trade.  
A deep sleep.  
A lighter.

Deaths.

"...Garry." Ib started sobbing again. "And Mary... It- it took me six years..."

She looked up at the young man, now somewhat close to her own age. The image was blurry from her own tears, but could make out the small smile on his face.

Because she was safe.

Because she escaped.

Because she was happy.

But she never was safe. The world outside was plenty dangerous.

But she never escaped. The gallery still haunted her dreams, and they wouldn't stop.

But she couldn't be happy. Not anymore. Because she remembered.

And that felt worse than forgetting. She felt guilty. Guilty she left behind her savior, her knight in the shining armor.

Her best friend.

"G-gomennasai, Garry-kun. Arigato." She turned to leave, choking back a sob.

That was when she noticed the pink rabbit bounding toward the Fabricated World mural.

* * *

Remember, please vote for the ending!


	4. red eyes

**This is the second to last chapter. Please vote on the poll in my profile page! The last chapter will not be posted until at least 10 votes are in!**

This chapter is slightly more uplifting, but pay attention if you want to catch the full meaning before Chapter 5.

-OrpheusEx

* * *

Ib gasped, frankly shocked at the sight of the familiar, small, pink animal. She ran after it, and watched as it leapt into the canvas, now devoid of its frame, leaving a fluid ripple on its surface.

Looked around briefly, she contemplated going in to save one of her best friends, one who made a sacrifice to save a little girl. One who literally traded his life for hers.

She didn't even hesitate before charging head first into the mural.

* * *

Wandering, Ib followed the neon yellow bunny footprints into the sketchbook world.

She was a little scared. The gallery was just as she left it, though she hadn't seen a Lady in hours, and hadn't even heard any of the shrill laughs of the dolls.

No sooner than she thought this, a myriad number of hands flew out of the walls, chasing her down the hallway.

It was almost a relief.

She kept following the yellow print road.

She gingerly stepped on the road of crayon. It felt like it'd give way if she stepped too hard, letting her fall into a pit of poorly drawn spikes and nooses. It only took Ib the better part of a day to reach the sketchbook, and she had placed her rose in a nice azure vase a while back. The yellow had excellent contrast against the red path.

_Pit pat, pit pat. _Sometimes Ib would have her hopes lifted slightly as she saw a pink cottony tail round a corner, dripping yellow, always disappearing, a little like those fleeting fantasies she now knew came from the accursed gallery.

It led her to Mary's house. Ib smiled sadly, as she still harbored some deal of affection for the young relic.

All she had wanted were friends, and food, and freedom.

She wanted a life. So she took one.

Ib opened the pink door by its crude yellow handle. The room was dark, so the teen pulled out her- Garry's lighter.

"*cough cough* I-Ib...? I-is that really you?" It was a feminine voice, and as EFfeminate as Garry was, it sounded young.

Ib knew who it was immediately, and stumbled across the dark room to kneel by the young witch. She looked emaciated, ribs sticking out of painted dress. Ib quickly pulled out some water and a few macaroons in her little knapsack that she was suddenly very glad she brought to the gallery.

"*gulp gulp* Th-thanks..." For the first time in years, a pair of bright blue eyes looked up, worn with loneliness. Like a mirror.

Tears rolled down Ib's face as she expressed her realization that she missed Mary the only way she knew how- a glomp.

"G-Garry's in the hallway. He's n-not much better..." Ib nodded and ran down the black and red steps.

He was worse. She did everything she could. Crammed macaroons in his mouth, nearly drowned him in bottled water, threatened to play "Loves Me Not" with her own rose; it didn't matter. Nothing more than a groan was uttered from the bloody violette, slumped against the wall.

Then she realized how much of a godsend slapping was.

Only a half hour later, they stood in Mary's room. Ib had taken their blue and yellow roses and placed them in her water bottle, rejuvenating them.

Merciless glomping ensued. They had been revived somehow, and Ib was happier than she had been in quite a while.

The pair looked like they had the last time Ib saw them, as if they hadn't aged a day. She grimaced at the thought of if they had aged and she hadn't came back until much later.

Mary held a small pink bunny with red eyes and feet with caked on yellow paint. It stared at Ib.

"Ib? Hello? Gallery to Ib?" Mary was trying to get her attention by snapping her small fingers in front of Ib's face.

"What?" Ib was quite literally snapped out of her daydream. Garry spoke up this time.

"We were thinking of leaving." Ib's blood suddenly turned cold remembering a book she read a long time ago.

"I-I don't have to trap anyone here anymore!" Mary reassured her, tugging her hand.

"O-okay. Let's g-go then." The teen couldn't bear to lose her friends for a second time. That simply was not an option.

They grabbed each other's hands and started walking, the rabbit jumping and padding away into the dark.

* * *

"Well... This is it..." They stood in front of the mural. Ib couldn't make out one of the words. She still felt wary. If any of them were left behind, she swore she'd start crying showers when she left.

The frame vanished. Ib stepped forward, friends in tow.

"Hey Ib..." The girl turned toward her painted friend.

"Y-yeah?"

"I... I was thinking... Maybe we should stay here... Ib, this place... As rough as it's been... It still my home..." Garry looked sympathetic.

"Maybe we should stay?" Ib looked melancholy for a moment. Then her expression hardened.

"No. We're jumping in." The pair nodded. They leapt.

Ib blinked her eyes open. Next to her were two people, a little girl and an older, slightly androgynous male.

It had worked. She hugged them both, squishing them all together. She didn't care about the weird looks.

She was just happy.

"You were right, it really is better out here!" Mary's face was full of glee. Suddenly, a myriad of speakers turned on.

_Attention all visitors. The gallery will be closing shortly. Please make your way to the exit._

The three smiled as they walked down.

"Let's be sure to keep in touch, right Ib?" Ib nodded happily, exchanging numbers with the violette.

"Oh, and here!" Ib handed Garry his lighter back. Then he ran off, Mary chasing him.

"Wait for meeeee! I don't have anywhere else to go!" The teen smiled, and noticed that the Forgotten Portrait had been replaced with the purple haired Hanged Man. He was smiling, his the edges of his crescent mouth pointing toward the ceiling.

Satisfied to say the least, she walked home, with the heavy weight of her knapsack slowing her down a little, reminding herself to call up Adam before she went to bed.

* * *

**Current Poll Status**- 5/10 votes. The downer ending is beating the hopeful ending, 3:2.


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